


Simple Salutations

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Houdini & Doyle (TV)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Shippy Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 11:24:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7616197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the first time in two years that Addie hasn't had to celebrate her birthday alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simple Salutations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The Key of MGY (cdessler)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cdessler/gifts).



> Written for my dear sweet RP Addie's birthday over on Tumblr. I'm like, why not? Let's write about winter birthdays when it's 100 degrees outside. I love these two.
> 
> I do not own _Houdini & Doyle _. Thanks for reading!

"Hey, there she is!"

Adelaide's steps faltered on their way from the precinct as Houdini rose from the stairs, bounding to his feet in the light dusting of snow covering the walkway. What was he doing here? It wasn't unlike him to drop by the precinct unannounced, much to her chagrin sometimes, but sitting outside in the snow? That meant he was waiting on her, and she was instantly suspicious.

Still, she would be cordial. He had done nothing to prove he was up to anything. Nothing except breathing, and being there, and looking at her with that glint in his eyes. "Houdini," she greeted, as her gloved fingers fumbled over her coat buttons. "What are you doing here?"

"What, a guy can't sit outside Scotland Yard nowadays?" His trousers were dark where he'd been sitting. He had snowflakes in his hair. Adelaide smiled despite herself, and pretended that she did not want to reach over and dislodge them from his dark curls. The fact that she wanted to at all somewhat startled her, but she didn't let that show.

"They _can_ , but they generally _don't_ when it's this cold out," she said. The shiny metal numbers pinned boldly on her collar had gotten caught on the lapel of her coat. She frowned, turned her attention away from the magician and to the uniform.

"Here, let me." Houdini seemed to be directly in front of her in a matter of seconds, fingers expertly releasing where the pins had caught on the fabric. He smelled like fresh leather and something light and crisp, whisking the cool, winter air around her face. He was close, and there were more flakes in his hair than Adelaide had thought. "There." His fingers smoothed her collar and then dropped back to his sides. He seemed to forget to step away. "Actually, I came to say well done on surviving another whole year, Addie."

God, that smile- wait, what did he say? Adelaide blinked a few times, lips tugging downwards. Was that... birthday salutations? She didn't recall ever mentioning when her birthday _was_ , to anyone. She was certain it was on file at Yard, but no one had said a word today. But trust Harry Houdini to sit outside in the cold to wait and say it to her.

His smile was fading, just a little. "You're looking blank," he said, and she noticed from the corner of her eye as he fiddled with one of his cuffs. "Is today not your real birthday? I didn't think that the one on your file would be fake... well, not until right now." His breath puffed out into a cloud and he laughed slightly. Self-deprecatingly, like.

Adelaide breathed in sharply. "No," she said, "it's today."

The anxiety creeping into Houdini's glacial gaze thawed. "Oh, good! I was hoping." He rocked back on his heels. "Doyle was going to meet you with me, but Mary's gotten a fever..."

"Oh no."

"Yeah, he sends his regards, though." Houdini seemed to hesitate and then pushed ahead with whatever he was - oh. He offered his arm to her, and gestured to the street. "Shall we?"

Part of her was tempted to say no. She'd had a long day of work. She'd been planning on going home, having a bath and a cup of tea and relaxing. But some part of her was saying _don't you dare say that_. It was the part that was saying that it was her birthday, and she didn't need to be alone on her birthday anymore. She didn't even have to _pretend_ that she wanted to be alone.

So, with the long suffering sigh, she took Houdini's arm, and asked, "where are we going?"

"I don't know," Houdini replied, and seemed completely unbothered by that. "Where do you wanna go?"

"I was going to go home," she admitted, and Houdini inhaled with a sharp gasp.

"It's your birthday and you were planning to go home. Addie, come on, you've got to live a little!"

"You know," Adelaide retorted, "I don't recall mentioning my birthday to you, anyway."

The coy little smirk had turned into a genuine smile. He looked too proud of himself. "Did you think that was going to stop me? Don't you know me at all?"

"I know all about you, Harry Houdini," she said, and was surprised - again - to realise how true that statement was. He came off as blunt and brash and a bit of the typical American stereotype. A lot of the typical American stereotype, even. But there was so much more to him that that obnoxious sort of flirt, like the more quiet, tender moments that Adelaide only saw when it was him and her, when he talked about his mother or his passions or slyly wormed his way further and further into Adelaide's life with little questions about her life, both former and present.

Houdini laughed. "You think?" He hummed, and his shoulder bumped into hers. "I think I've still got things to figure out about you, though. Right?" He looked at her, and Adelaide felt her heart seize in her chest.

She wanted to tell him everything as much as she wanted to tell him to mind his own business. Her relationship with both him and Arthur Conan Doyle had progressed past her thinking them annoying busybodies. Even if she was still sore over them breaking into her flat. (It felt like ages ago.) She knew they _cared_ now, and that they wanted the best for her. But she had lived as Adelaide Stratton, self-made, self-sustained, and very much on her own, for so long, that letting anyone in to share in her life was... _terrifying_.

Houdini wasn't waiting for a response. "Truth trade?" he asked instead. That did not settle the ice in her stomach. Adelaide looked at him from the corner of her eye, and he held up his hand. "No funny business," he said, "I swear."

Adelaide blew out a sigh. "Very well."

His lips were pulled into that smile that he knew something that she didn't. She didn't like that look, just now. "You like sweets, right?" he asked, and Adelaide blinked at him in confusion. It only furthered Harry's smile. "I thought about treating you at the pâtisserie," he explained. "For your birthday."

She was staring, and then she was laughing. " _That's_ your truth trade?"

"That's all I need to know _right now_."

She didn't even know what to say, or think, or do. But... starting at the pâtisserie seemed a good place. "Yes," she allowed. "I guess I'm dreadfully predictable. I like sweets."

"Oh, our Addie is anything but predictable," Houdini replied, and Adelaide closed her eyes briefly, relishing in the warmth settling comfortably into the middle of her chest. It was chasing away the cold feeling from before. _Our Addie._ She wondered if, perhaps, he had wanted to say _MY Addie_ instead. It did not bear dwelling on.

"I bet I can guess what you'll order," Houdini was saying.

Adelaide shook her head. Not to argue with him, but merely in disbelief. How had a man like Harry Houdini fallen into her life like this? "Yes? You can try," she said, challenging him in the same way he challenged her. He took the bait, and started talking again.

 

　

They were still at the table when Harry leaned over, eyebrows furrowed as though in concentration. "You've got something just here," he said, and his fingers brushed against the skin of her neck.

She almost dropped her fork. "What? Where?" she asked, almost determinedly, glancing down.

There was a pendant resting on Harry's palm, connected to a golden chain, neither of which Adelaide had ever seen before. She reached up, and the chain was connected around her own neck. Had he- _when_? She hoped the look she gave him was an annoyed one, but her eyes were drawn in by the gorgeous purple setting that was still sitting on his palm.

"It's amethyst," Harry said softly. "Evidently it protects its wearer from dark times and makes you have good dreams and friendships and luck with the opposite sex. I mean... if you believe in all that stuff." He let it fall from his hand, and Adelaide hastened to catch it, even if it was connected with the chain. She looked at it closely, feeling transfixed. Which was absurd, it wasn't like she didn't own jewellery, it wasn't like Benjamin hadn't bought her jewellery when they were married...

"... Where did you get this?" She looked across the table at him. "It must have cost-"

Houdini held up his hands. "Nothing, actually. It's a family heirloom, so don't worry about the money."

"A family..." Adelaide trailed off. "Houdini, you can't-"

"I did," he interrupted, and looked too smug for it.

Her fingers closed around the pendant. Her heart was pounding. "Harry," she started again.

"Don't try to give your birthday present back, Addie," Houdini said, seriously, but there was still amusement in his eyes. "That would be rude."

Oh, she could throttle him. "You can't just give me something like this and then-"

"I can."

"Don't interrupt me," she complained, and Houdini looked at her evenly, and said nothing. "This is beautiful, Harry, but it's too much, I can't..."

He interrupted again. " _You_ can. You deserve much more." He muttered the latter part mostly to himself, and then looked at her again. "But you could start with finishing that cake," he said, jabbing his fork towards her cake.

" _Houdini_."

"Happy birthday, Adelaide."

For once, his tone brooked no argument. Adelaide still wanted to throttle him. She settled with huffing and picking up her fork again. She wasn't mad. Not really. She was _thrilled_. And that was just as frightening, because that necklace was _too much_ and she loved it but it was a family heirloom, he'd said, and she didn't deserve it, but he had also said she deserved much more. It was a strange mixture of grateful and scared.

She wanted to give the necklace back. She suspected that she would never be able to let it go.

She was just about to take a bite of the cake, and lowered her fork again instead. "Harry."

"Hm?" He glanced up from the bill.

Before she could back out of it, Adelaide braced her arm on the tabletop and leaned over, pressing her lips against his cheek. She felt him freeze, and simultaneously felt like she was going to burst into flame herself. "Thank you," she said, instead, and quickly straightened up.

Houdini didn't say anything immediately, and Adelaide went back to her cake with renewed interest.

"... uh." And then he cleared his throat, and the chair squeaked a little as he must have moved. "Yeah, it's not a big deal. Anything to make our Addie happy. Right?"

She forced herself to look up and meet his gaze. He barely looked miffed, but was that the light hitting his face or did his cheeks look pink? "... Yeah," she said. Smiled. "I mean, you tell me. You're the one giving me gifts."

Houdini was back to the smile already. "Yeah. I am, aren't I? Speaking of that, eat your cake! It's only good while it's cold. Room temperature is no good."

Adelaide laughed softly, and picked up her fork yet again. "You're so thoughtful," she teased, and Houdini beamed, and that warmth in Adelaide's chest only continued to grow.

She wasn't sure what was happening. To her, to this, to _them_. ("Them?") It was too much to try and process, especially now, when she was having such a good time. That was the thing of it. She hadn't had a good time with people in so long, she had almost forgotten what it had felt like. And being with Harry Houdini felt... _good_.

He might be blunt and brash and the stereotypical picture of an American, but, like the pendant catching the light of the pâtisserie, she didn't expect she would be able to let him go anytime soon, either.

 


End file.
